


Fleeting Encounter

by White_Gladioli



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Surprisingly Little Angst, Swearing, Teleportation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 20:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16919514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Gladioli/pseuds/White_Gladioli
Summary: “Hank,” Connor forced his voice to shake in an imitation of worry, “that never happened.”“Of course it fucking did! I...” Hank trailed off as he noted the disbelief in Connor’s eyes. He ran a hand down his face and rubbed his chin. “Connor, please. You’ve gotta believe me.”---An AU where CyberLife created teleportation and gave Connor the ability to use it.





	Fleeting Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> As a rule of thumb, if Connor has anything that causes him even the slightest bit of worry, he has to hide it from Hank and suffer for doing so.  
> Hank is done with the world.

\-- _However, scientists claim we are still centuries from creating an effective form of teleportation._  
  
Connor set down the electronic magazine with a huff. Clearly, the writers at Tech Addict hadn’t spoken with CyberLife. Not only was teleportation _possible_ , but its methods had been refined by CyberLife some time ago, and gifted to their most advanced prototype.  
  
Basically, Connor could teleport.  
  
The ground rules to his ability were simple. Things Connor was in immediate contact with (clothes, things in his pocket) were automatically recognised to be teleported with him. Connor could either teleport himself, teleport items or creatures he was in contact with (touching a cup and having it appear on Hank’s desk as Connor stays where he is), or both (transferring himself and Sumo across the park).  
  
Connor often used it to gain distance on suspects he was chasing, as long as Hank couldn’t see them. That meant he failed in front of Hank more than he did at other times, but his pride would just have to suffer the blow. After all, he couldn’t let Hank know. The man had come to accept the concept of androids being alive only a couple months ago; what would it do to him to find out one of those same androids could  _teleport_?  
  
A shuffling sound from near the door pulled Connor from his thoughts. He twisted around on the couch to see Hank, adorned in thick gray sweatpants, snow boots, and a plain black shirt, pulling on a heavy brown jacket.  
  
“Where’re you going?” Connor asked, tilting his head to the side.  
  
“If you’re dressed for the weather, then  _we’re_  going shopping.”  
  
“I am, just let me get my scarf and beanie.” Connor leapt up from the couch and jogged to his room. He found his scarf in his closet and secured it around his neck in a key tie, and whipped his trusty beanie off the top of his dresser and onto his head, pulling it down to cover his LED.  
  
Connor gave Sumo a quick scratch behind the ears as he passed him in the hall on the way back to the living room. Hank stood with his arms folded across his chest as he waited for Connor to slip on his leather jacket and boots.  
  
Hank opened the door, and the two of them stepped outside into the frigid air. Snow crunched under their feet as they hastily crossed the lawn to the car. They practically vaulted into their seats, slamming the doors shut after them. Hank put his key in the ignition and started up the car. It rumbled to life beneath them, and comforting heat began to seep from the vents.  
“Right, let’s go. Hope this old thing doesn’t die on us on the way...”  
  
***  
  
“God, this place is  _swamped_.”  
  
The supermarket parking lot was overflowing with cars and people all in a rush to get food and supplies before the forecasted blizzard hit Detroit.  
  
“Damn it. We’re probably gonna have to park down the street and walk there,” Hank grumbled.  
  
“I think you’re right. My scanners detect an available parking space around the corner of the block, behind the supermarket.”  
  
“That’s a lot of walking.”  
  
“I’d normally say that’s good for you, but I’m not too sure about that in this weather.” Connor gazed through his window at the snow flurries drifting to the ground. “We should be expecting moderate to heavy snow showers in the next 6 hours.”  
  
“Jesus,” Hank sighed. He checked the road behind them as he directed the car into the parking space. As soon as it was parked and shut off, he threw open his door and stepped out. “Well, c’mon, don’t wanna waste any more time.”  
  
Connor’s steady stride brought him a few feet ahead of Hank as they walked to the supermarket’s entrance. About halfway up the sidewalk, Connor spotted 3 people perched against the outer wall of an apartment building. All of them wore dirtied, dark clothing, and looked to be males in their mid-to-early 30’s. They were talking to each other in hushed whispers that were occasionally broken through with symphonic snickering. Empty beer bottles littered the area at their feet.  
  
Connor slowed his pace to fall into step beside Hank. He nudged Hank’s arm and discreetly pointed out the group.  
  
“Yeah, I see em,” Hank mumbled. “And don’t think they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything in broad daylight. ‘Specially if they have the balls to drink in public.”  
  
The whispering became more decipherable as Connor and Hank drew reluctantly closer to the group.  
  
“Look at those fuckin’ idiots,” one of them sneered, nodding to some androids up ahead pushing grocery-filled carts. The androids in question still had their LEDs. “They stroll in there like they actually need to buy shit to live. You know, if they’re going to pretend to be human, they can at least take out those fucking light-up mood rings.” The man tapped his right temple with his finger. “Someone oughta rip those things right outta their heads.”  
  
Connor stilled, suddenly aware that his beanie no longer hid his LED. He moved his hand up to adjust it, but the man noticed before he could do anything.    
  
“Like that shit right there,” he hissed, gesturing at Connor with a gloved hand. “Why didn’t you take out  _your_  light, huh?”  
  
“Leave ‘em alone,” Hank growled. “Most of the androids out here have more humanity than the three of you combined.”  
  
“Think you can prove it, dipshit?” The man stepped away from his friends to stand in front of Hank and Connor, blocking their path. Connor took this opportunity to scan for the man’s identity; he came up as Michael Campbell, employed as a construction worker and previously charged with illegal possession of a firearm. He had short-cropped, fawn-colored hair, and his small eyes were a deep reddish-brown. His face showed signs of long-term sleep deprivation, yet he held himself proudly.  
  
“If you weren’t so ignorant, you’d see there’s proof all around you,” Hank retorted.  
  
“You wanna say that _again_?” Michael bristled, puffing out his chest and pulling his right arm back. Only then did Connor notice something sticking out of Michael’s back pocket; the handle of an American Tanto knife.  
  
Flushed with panic and unwilling to risk any altercation in the slightest, Connor grabbed onto Hank’s elbow and initiated group teleportation. Less than a second later, they were standing next to a vacant car on the street opposite the storefront.  
  
Connor wasn’t too concerned about the group seeing him teleport. Nobody would believe them if they went to the authorities with a report of two people disappearing into thin air. And anyone currently nearby would likely think Connor and Hank had exited the car beside them. No, what truly worried Connor was Hank’s reaction. He silently prayed to whatever karmatic gods there were that he wouldn't be punished for the impromptu acting he was about to perform.  
  
Connor pulled at Hank’s arm to coax the stunned lieutenant into walking, and pretended to continue a conversation that had never happened.   
  
“-it’s probably climate change. The snowfalls will be heavier, but the snow seasons will be shorter. It’s-“  
  
“Connor?”  
  
“Hmm?” Connor stopped, turning to face Hank and faking an inquisitive stare.  
  
“What the fuck just happened?” Hank’s voice quivered, and his eyes darted around wildly.  
  
Connor frowned in mock concern. “What?” he chimed cluelessly. “Did you see something?”  
  
“We were just- Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know-“  
  
“Hank? Are you all right?” Connor shuffled closer to him. “What do you think you saw?”  
  
“I don’t  _think_ , I  _know_! I know we were just down that street-“ Hank pointed towards the apartment complex they had been walking in front of- “and there was this punk, early 30’s, he was talking shit about androids and their LEDs-”  
  
“Hank,” Connor forced his voice to shake in an imitation of worry, “that never happened.”  
  
“Of course it fucking did! I...” Hank trailed off as he noted the disbelief in Connor’s eyes. He ran a hand down his face and rubbed his chin. “Connor, please. You’ve gotta believe me.”  
  
“Hey, it’s okay. I believe that _you_ believe you saw something.”  
  
“So you don’t believe me.”  
  
“That’s not what I said,” Connor chided. He placed the back of his hand on Hank’s forehead, pretending to gauge his temperature. “Is it really that cold outside? I’m sorry, I should’ve forced you to stay home...”  
  
“That’s not... it’s not...” Hank was shifting from foot to foot, crossing his arms then uncrossing them.  
  
“Don’t get too worked up. Let’s get you back to the car, and _I’ll_ go shopping, okay? I can handle the cold better than you.”  
  
“...Alright. Guess I hallucinated,” Hank admitted quietly. Connor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; Hank had believed his lie.  
  
“Yeah. Back to the car, come on.” Connor hoped his grimace could pass as unease, and not a reflection of the overwhelming guilt caking his mind.  
  
***  
  
Weeks later, Connor still felt incredibly guilty for lying to Hank and causing him undue worry, but he could feel justified as long as he kept telling himself it would’ve been much more damaging to tell Hank the truth. Connor made himself a solemn promise to never use his ability in front of Hank again.  
  
“Secret’s safe with you, huh, Sumo?” Connor cooed, stroking the large St. Bernard along his spine. Sumo let out a small  _boof_  and stretched out further along the couch, coming to rest his head in Connor’s lap.  
  
***  
  
That promise was broken exactly 3 weeks later.  
  
Hank and Connor were the first on the scene of a reported android murder. The android was an AP700, killed in an under-construction office building with its own tools. One of the other construction workers had walked in on the body and immediately notified the police. And, as luck would have it, the murderer was still there when Hank and Connor arrived. As luck _wouldn’t_ have it, the murderer was Michael Campbell, and he was armed with a fully loaded, semi-automatic pistol.  
  
“Shit,” Michael muttered as Hank and Connor converged on the scene with their guns trained on him. “The power-duo’s back, huh? The ones who popped out of existence right in front of us?”  
  
“Shut it!” Connor snapped. “Drop the weapon and get on the ground!”  
  
“Make me!” Michael spat, diving behind a large piece of plywood.   
  
“You know that’s not enough to protect you from a bullet, right?” Hank derided. At that, Michael leaned around the plywood and took aim at Hank.  
  
In microseconds, Connor calculated that if Michael fired, the bullet would hit Hank’s right lung, and the lieutenant would begin to suffer from pneumohemothorax almost instantly.  
  
Reacting with lightning speed, Connor darted in front of Hank and gripped both of his shoulders, already activating group teleportation. A millisecond later, they were outside, the bright light of the sun shining on the snow stinging at their eyes. Connor let go of Hank and stepped back, frantically looking him over for injuries.   
  
“Are you okay?” Connor panted.  
  
“M’ fine.” Hank gave Connor an equally worried once-over. “You?”  
  
“I’m good.”  
  
Hank suddenly frowned, glaring down at Connor. “You can’t tell me I was hallucinating this time, too. The guy recognised us.”  
  
“We’ll talk about it after back up arrives.”  
  
“No, Connor, we’re gonna talk about it _now_.”  
  
The blaring whine of approaching police sirens interrupted the conversation.  
  
“ _Later_.” Connor insisted.  
  
Three police cars pulled up at the scene. Officer Person and Officer Miller jumped out of one of the cars and raced to where Connor and Hank stood.  
  
“You two okay?” Officer Miller asked.  
  
“We’re fine, Chris,” Connor assured him. “The murderer is Michael Campbell. He was able to avoid suspicion by co-workers because he’s a fellow employee. He’s armed with a semi-automatic pistol, 9 rounds left. I didn’t see any more ammo on him.”  
  
Chris nodded, motioning for the other officers to follow him into the building. As they took their respective positions, Connor began tugging Hank away from the action in the direction of the car.  
  
The walk to the car was silent. Connor slid into the passenger seat, and Hank plopped into the driver’s seat. They sat there for a few minutes, watching the windshield slowly fog over with steam from Hank’s breath.  
  
Connor drummed his fingers anxiously against his thigh. “I- I can explain now, if you’d like.”  
  
“Yes, _please_ ,” Hank pleaded exhaustedly.  
  
“Okay, well... you remember when we went to the store about three weeks ago, and you were freaking out because one second we were talking with an anti-android prick, and the next second we were across the street? And I convinced you that you’d hallucinated it all?"  
  
“Yes...?”  
  
“You weren’t hallucinating.”  
  
“Yeah, thought so,” Hank scoffed. “Are you gonna tell me what _really_ happened?”  
  
“Only if you promise not to think I’m crazy.”  
  
“Kid, if you told me 30 years ago that androids would gain sentience, I would’ve called you crazy. But now? I’m willing to believe anything.”  
  
“So you’d believe me if I said that CyberLife created a way to teleport?” Connor asked unbelievingly.  
  
“Mhm.”  
  
“And that they refined it into a safe and effective method, yet didn’t tell anyone?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“And that, as CyberLife’s most advanced prototype, they granted me the ability to teleport myself and others?”  
  
“Doesn’t surprise me.”  
  
Connor tilted his head. “Are you really _that_ done with the world?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You’re not,” Connor waved his hands around in a search for words, “concerned or anything?”  
  
Hank sat up straighter in his seat. “The only thing I’m concerned about is whether you’ve been teleporting Sumo. He’s lazy enough as it is.”  
  
Connor lowered his head guiltily. Hank sighed.  
  
“Don’t do it anymore, you hear? He needs whatever exercise he gets, the big lump.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Also, don’t lie to me again. I know you don’t like lying, and I don’t appreciate being made to feel crazy, so it’ll be better for both of us.”  
  
“I know. Sorry.”  
  
Hank ruffled Connor’s hair. “I forgive you.”  
  
Connor smiled. “Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, comments feed a writer's soul!


End file.
